Jimmy Stewart by Starr Smith

Author:Starr Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MBI
Published: 2010-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Part 2—By Jimmy Stewart

Well, it’s been forty years.

I recall the incident. In fact, I recall when I wished I could have forgotten it. It happened much as Andy has written. In his telling, perhaps the airspeed seems a little faster, the altitude a little lower and the Chandelles more perfect, given the passage of so much time. So, there may be some embellishment.

It fairly relates what happened on a late afternoon in April 1944. He’s right, Colonel strode into the mess. Normally he was a most mild-mannered man. Highly decorated, he had already been through much of the air war. Though much younger than I, his combat experiences had induced a maturity far beyond his years. Obviously he had recently been severely chastised and I guessed immediately that he had been called by the Brig. General commanding our combat wing. The word of our training mission—escapade—had been reported to higher headquarters. Well, I tried the explanation that we were highly qualified instructor pilots who had been cooped up too long in a stuffy headquarters. Suddenly we had a chance to fly, and were momentarily carried away with the exhilaration of being free. We did nothing dangerous, only getting a feel of the airplane. So we tried to explain. The more I struggled for words (the Colonel did not give me much opportunity to speak), the more I realized that what we had thought was a grand idea some three hours earlier now seemed pretty dumb. So we switched rationale. I say “we.” Andy just stood there. He did try to remind the Colonel that we were very experienced pilots and did nothing dangerous.

Then I remembered the old barracks proverb, “when you are at the bottom of a hole, don’t dig.” I assured the colonel that there had been only a momentary lapse in good judgement. This we regretted and such a lapse would not happen again.

Flushed and upset, the Colonel strode out of the mess without stopping for his evening meal. After that, our evening meal didn’t taste very good either. We returned to the office. Shortly after arriving, a telephone call came from Wing Headquarters for me. It was the Commanding General. As a Major I was pleased to be called by the General, but it soon turned out to be a continuation of our encounter with the Colonel. How could we do such a dumb thing? Weren’t we supposed to be setting a proper example for the younger crews? Suppose they were tempted to repeat our mission and kill themselves in a high-speed stall.

I had learned from our session with the Colonel to limit explanations. Now they did not make too much sense. I assured the General that a lapse of good discipline and training would not occur again. At least, not with us. Finally he hung up.

It wasn’t over yet. The phone rang again. It was my former Colonel, and he was most upset, particularly about his control tower operators. I was most humble and contrite of heart.

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